Until The Morning
by sea.song.26
Summary: Crowley is upset. This worries Aziraphale, who does his best to be comforting. But, as usual, he manages to mess something up. Oneshot, Crowley/Aziraphale. Pure and unashamed fluff.


A/N: Pure, unashamed fluff. I'm good at fluff, apparently. Features angsty-and-hissing!Crowley and comforting!Aziraphale. Rating for mild language and very very slight sexual implications. Also, pretty much completely inspired by the Imogen Heap song "Speeding Cars". If you have never heard it, go listen to it. Right now. I saw her perform it live and it was AHMAZING. Hehe. Yeah. So I'll shut up now and get on with the actual oneshot, shall I?

Aziraphale was only mildly surprised to see Crowley sitting in the snow on the front steps outside of the bookshop. "Good evening," he greeted his Enemy amiably. "Isn't it cold out here?"

"It's bloody _freezing_, angel, and if you don't unlock that door right now I–"

"No need for threats, my dear," said Aziraphale, unlocking the bookshop. "Really. What's gotten into you today?"

The demon sighed. "I don't think I even want to _think_ about it, but unfortunately, it'ss why I'm here."

Aziraphale caught the slight hiss at the end of "it's", and worried. Nowadays, Crowley only hissed when he was really worked up about something.

"Sit down, and we can talk," said the angel gently, nodding to the couch in the back room. They both went in and sat down.

"Okay," said Crowley, with evident self-control. "Well, basically what it boils down to is that I've screwed up. I... I messed with some international stuff and... andthere''ssallmyfault and now thingsss are even getting _nuclear_..."

"So things got a bit bigger than you wanted them to?"

Crowley nodded. "Yeah. That'sss an understatement."

Aziraphale sighed. "Well, it complicates things a bit, but... well, we can interfere and do our best to prevent it... I think I'll have to talk to someone higher up, though..."

Crowley dropped his head into his hands despairingly. "I'm sssuch an idiot!" he moaned. "I KNEW I ssshouldn't have done thissss!"

"My dear," said Aziraphale, "you're hissing. Just breathe, all right? We'll figure something out." He could tell that the demon was quite angry with himself, and almost equally despairing. He hadn't actually been aware that despair was an emotion that Crowley had the _capacity_ for. Hesitantly, the angel put an arm around Crowley's shoulders and pulled the demon toward him, holding him close. Crowley didn't protest; in fact, he rested his head against the angel's chest.

_Funny_, thought Aziraphale, _that I've imagined doing this for six thousand years, and now I get to, but under such terrible circumstances. The way the world works sometimes_.

"I jussst didn't mean for it to be thissss bad, I didn't want a third damn World War–"

"Shh," whispered Aziraphale, gently kissing the top of his demon's head. "We all make mistakes, love. It happens. We're none of us perfect."

"I'm _sssssssupossssed_ to ssscrew thingss up, though!" wailed Crowley. "Thissss iss going to–"

And then he stopped, and turned his head to look up at the angel. "Aziraphale?"

"Yes, my dear?"

"Did... did you jussst... call me... did you... love?"

"Oh, dear," murmured the angel quietly. "Well, I don't think that I meant to, but yes, love, I did." _After all_, Aziraphale figured, _if I've already gotten myself into trouble there's no point in not throwing it all to the wind_.

"Ah," said Crowley, seeming slightly bemused. "Good." And with that, he lifted up his head and gently kissed the angel's lips. It wasn't an overly passionate kiss; there was no tongue involved, but rather it was chaste, and sweet, and utterly full of love. A slightly surprised Aziraphale returned it.

Eventually, Crowley broke it. "I've sssscrewed up again, haven't I?" he said miserably. "Oh, Aziraphale, I'm sssorry, I–"

The angel shushed him quite effectively with another kiss. This one was also broken by Crowley, because he felt that they ought to breathe for a moment. Even though they didn't technically need to, they were both rather in the habit.

Aziraphale sighed. "I'll go try to get in contact with someone who can do something about this international mess," he said. "We'll see what we can do about this..."

"Zira," said Crowley. Aziraphale looked at him in some surprise. He hadn't called him Zira since... well, since a long time ago. And last time, he'd been so drunk he could barely stand. That, the angel recalled, was the night that the demon had... gotten a bit touchy-feely with him. He blushed at the memory.

"Zira," continued the demon, "will... will you... jussst let me ssstay here tonight? Will you sssstay with me? I don't... I don't want to _do_ anything, I jussst want to know you're here. With me."

Aziraphale smiled, and settled himself lying on his side, Crowley snuggling up against him. The angel wrapped his arms around the demon's lean, muscular stomach. Crowley relaxed into him, and Aziraphale gently kissed his head again.

Whatever could be done for the war, Aziraphale thought, could wait until the morning.


End file.
